


Downsizing (Prologue)

by allimarie_xf



Series: The Fabric of Life [1]
Category: Arrow (TV 2012)
Genre: Canon Compliant, F/M, Season/Series 06, Walk down memory lane, mostly - Freeform, prologue to a collection
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-02
Updated: 2018-04-02
Packaged: 2019-04-17 01:20:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,532
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14177493
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/allimarie_xf/pseuds/allimarie_xf
Summary: Felicity is moving into Oliver's (herhusband's) apartment and there's no way all her clothes and shoes will fit into his tiny closets. She's in for some tough choices and Oliver, as always, comes to her rescue.Prologue to a collection of sartorial-inspired reminiscences.





	Downsizing (Prologue)

Felicity sat on the floor in the closet of the bedroom of her loft feeling overwhelmed. She needed help. Not for the first time, she picked up her phone and almost dialed before stopping herself, squeezing the pink plastic case, counting backward in her head. “You can do this, Smoak. Or is it Queen? Smoak-Queen? Smeen? Eww! _God_ no!!” Having startled herself out of a downward spiral, she placed the phone back among the rainbow of fabric that surrounded her. 

Sighing, she reapplied herself to her task. “Some of you…just have to go! That’s all there is to it, I mean there’s just no room in Oliver’s apartment, my - well, _our_ apartment.” She made a face. “The closets...” she whispered tragically, “they’re _tiny_.” She was stuck again with a sudden cold panic as her eyes landed on the pile of colorful shoes, which she hadn’t even begun to sort through. A low moan started to rise from somewhere deep inside her. “Unnnghaaaaahhh _I can do this_!” 

She was saved from her third mini-freakout of the morning by the buzz of her phone. “Oliver!” she breathed into the mouthpiece. Her relief was palpable.

“Are you okay?” 

Oh god, that was his panicked voice. Of _course_ he was panicking. She needed to dial this _way_ down. “Me?” Casual. “Yeaaah. I mean, yeah, yep. Why do you ask?” Too casual. 

“Felicity.” Ugh, that tone definitely meant he was already on his way to the loft, despite his packed schedule, which she _might_ be in the habit of keeping close tabs on. Electronically. But it wasn’t spying because he _had_ to know she was doing it, and besides, it wasn’t like he wouldn’t share his schedule with her if she _asked_. What was it he was always saying? Old habits.

“Oliver, no.” She brought her tone under control. “I’m okay, really. I’m just having a bit more trouble with all this packing than I thought I would.” She huffed a small laugh, suddenly aware of how absurd it all was. “I’m - _really_ sorry.” Annoyance and self-deprecation bled into her tone.

“Felicity…”

“No. Don’t do that thing.” 

She heard his intake of breath. “What thing?”

“Oh, you _know_ what thing. That thing where you go and be all noble and sweet and self-sacrificing, way more than the situation calls for, and in the end I just feel like a big jerk.” 

“That’s a thing I do?” 

She nodded, though he couldn’t see her. He was on his way, she knew, and despite her guilt, she was really looking forward to seeing him. She surveyed the piles of clothes that surrounded her, assessing how the scene would look to him when he came in. “Yeah. That’s definitely a thing you do.” 

He laughed lightly in that way that was for her alone. Felicity closed her eyes and leaned back among a pile of pastel and floral fabric. “You’re on your way here?”

“Yeah.”

“But what about your 10:45 with Commissioner Blakely?” 

“I cleared my schedule.”

“Oliver - what about the conference call with the governor?!” The sharp contrast between the importance of his morning’s meetings and the relative insignificance of her task struck her again with merciless clarity.

“I handled it, Felicity.” He was definitely, definitely doing that thing.

“I think you should go back to work. This, me? Here? It’s not important, Oliver. Really, I can deal with it, and tonight -”

“Tonight I’m going to be busy doing other things with my wife.” His intention-laden voice was suddenly louder, deeper, and present in the room with her. 

Felicity’s eyes snapped to his immediately, though she was lying on the floor, backwards and upside down relative to where he was standing with his hands in his pockets. 

“And you…” he kept his gaze fixed on her as he lowered his body to the floor. “Are always…” he placed his hands on either side of her head and leaned closer as his eyes flicked to her lips. “Important.” He met her eyes again, and there wasn’t even a single trace of amusement in his look.

Felicity abruptly sucked in a deep gasp of air, remembering to breathe for the first time since becoming aware of Oliver’s presence in the room. “Hi.”

And then his blue eyes sparked, suddenly lit with all her favorite Oliver Queen emotions, including latent humor, trust, and no small amount of open desire. He lowered his face slowly, rubbing noses with her before landing his lips lightly against hers. “Hi.”

Felicity reached up and dragged her fingernails lightly along Oliver’s neck, into the short hairs at the base of his skull, applying more force as she tangled her fingers into his hair, pulling him deeper into a kiss while at the same time leveraging herself around into an upright sitting position. Without missing a beat or breaking the kiss, Oliver helped her shift until she was on her knees facing him, breathing him in, her hands roaming, exploring, assuring. 

When Felicity finally pulled away, she found her palms laid on either side of his jaw, her fingers entangled in his light beard. Breathing hard, she looked into blue eyes that reflected late-morning light. “You have that Oliver Queen look in your eyes again.” 

His expression was immediately replaced with surprise and bewilderment, along with a willingness to be Felicity’s punchline just as soon as he was let in on the joke. 

Felicity laughed at herself, and then she was laughing with a sudden fierce joy and wonder at their lives.

And though Oliver never had trouble reading her mood shifts or following the sudden and drastic shifts in her trains of thought, his Felicity fluency wasn’t required at that moment. He felt it, too, and as he let Felicity cradle his face, he squeezed the tops of her knees in a gesture that was at once possessive and elevating, as if by holding her close he was lifting her up, and being lifted up, and after all it was true and they both knew it, finally.

“You got here fast.”

Oliver lifted his brow fractionally.

“Six blocks that way,” her eyes indicated the direction, “should have taken a bit longer, even for you.”

The corners of his mouth definitely moved. “I know a shortcut.”

Felicity’s wide blue eyes got wider and, seemingly, bluer, as Oliver smirked. That could only mean that he - in his suit - in broad daylight - “but _how?_ ” She raked her gaze down his body, searching for signs that he’d been scaling buildings or jumping off rooftops. He wasn’t even breathing hard.

Oliver just pressed his lips more firmly into a smug smile and continued to gaze at her in that maddening way.

The moment stretched on in the way that it often did when they allowed themselves to look at each other, really look, without any immediate impending dangers like bombs or bullets or arrows or assassins, and honestly Felicity had no idea how long they had been sitting there when suddenly she remembered that Oliver had canceled a meeting with the _governor_ for this, and probably not so he could sit on the floor in her closet surrounded by years-worth of accumulated outfits, half of which she had vowed to re-home before moving into her new life with her new, well, old-but-new, family. She licked her lips, and the movement caused Oliver to break their gaze.

His eyes clicked back into place as he took a breath. “You needed me.” It wasn’t really a question. 

She nodded as a smile broke over her face. She wasn’t even sorry, now. This, being with him, when it wasn’t important - it was important. And somehow he had known, the way he always seemed to know. Finally, she looked away, gesturing to the mess of clothing surrounding them. “As you know, I am trying to downsize.” She felt him nod. “It’s proving,” she took a deep breath, “difficult.” Her eyes landed on a pile of deep fuchsia, and her lips set into a thin line.

Oliver followed the line of her gaze, and he reached out to finger the pink crepe. He saw her nod slightly out of the corner of his eye, and he lifted the dress, setting it between them. He looked questioningly at her face, aware that something specific was on her mind, trusting that she’d fill him in.

She reached out and touched the fabric, and then looked at him. She wore a small smile, but there was something...particular...in her eyes.

He jutted his chin at her in an unmistakable request for information. 

She smiled more fully. “This dress, yeah. I think I should give it up, I mean it’s not exactly my style anymore….” As she spoke, she held the spaghetti straps up to her shoulders, allowing the cloth to unfurl and drape against her breasts. Oliver’s sudden intake of breath alerted her to the fact that he _finally_ understood what she was dealing with.

“That dress…” he whispered, almost reverently. He looked up, and for a second the eyes that met his were not his wife’s. They were smoky, guarded, a little hurt, but still completely Felicity. “Barry Allen.”

She nodded slowly, and together they remembered.

**Author's Note:**

> This story is meant to stand alone, but more importantly to serve as a framing narrative for a collection of stories that will be set at various points within Oliver and Felicity's relationship. I have so, so many stories in there that I want to tell, and each will be connected back to the present through this idea that Oliver and Felicity are sorting through their old clothes together, reliving old memories. That's the plan, and I'm hoping that the low-stakes fact of a collection of standalone stories, rather than a massive WIP, will prevent the buildup of pressure that usually quashes my creative impulses. 
> 
> Thanks for reading, and please (please please please!) let me know what worked or didn't work for you! Thanks! ^_^


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